


Tickling Curse

by ladyroxanne21



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A Little Bit Of Crack, Bottom Harry, Consensual Sex, M/M, Non-Consensual Molestation, Non-Consensual Tickling, a fairly happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:28:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28606728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyroxanne21/pseuds/ladyroxanne21
Summary: When Voldemort was resurrected in the Graveyard of his father, one of his Death Eaters accidentally Curses Harry so that everyone who sees him wants to tickle him - except for in extremely stressful circumstances. Harry then has to suffer through his Fifth Year as people keep tickling him with differing results.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	Tickling Curse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LivingDeaDGirl244](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivingDeaDGirl244/gifts).



> I took this fic on as a challenge to myself. It was requested with some specific details and even though they made me a little squirmy, I realized that BECAUSE this story made me squirmy (and not in a good way) that it was a good way to challenge myself to do something new.  
> To be honest, most of the challenge was breaking canon. I feel that canon is canon up until the ending, lol, so the fact that this breaks canon in Fifth Year was hard for me to do, lol.

The Tickling Curse

The Dark Lord had taken a few minutes – after his resurrection and subsequent calling of his Death Eaters – to threaten them and tell them a bit about what had happened to him. He eventually got to a point where he nearly bragged that he had one Death Eater in particular who'd infiltrated Hogwarts and seen to it that Harry was here in this graveyard for his rebirth.

And then finally, he got to the point: “And here his is... the boy you all believed had been my downfall...”

Voldemort moved slowly forward and turned to face Harry. He raised his wand. “ _Crucio_ !”

Harry screamed from pain beyond anything he had ever experienced; his very bones were on fire; his head was surely splitting along his scar; his eyes were rolling madly in his head; he wanted it to end... to black out... to die...

And then it was gone and Harry could hear the Death Eaters laughing even as Voldemort watched him with interest. “You see, I think, how foolish it was to suppose that this boy could ever have been stronger than me. But I want there to be no mistake in anybody's mind. Harry Potter escaped me by lucky chance, and I'm now going to prove my power by killing him, here and now, in front of you all, when there is no Dumbledore to help him, and no mother to die for him. I will give him his chance. He will be allowed to fight, and you will be left in no doubt which of us is the stronger. Just a little longer, Nagini,” he whispered to his snake, which slithered away to where his Death Eaters stood watching.

“Now untie him, Wormtail, and give him back his wand.”

As Voldemort watched his pathetic but surprisingly capable servant do his job, he did not notice that one of the Death Eaters behind him had raised his wand just a little bit. This was a man who had very little for brains, and so, very little hope of impressing his master. He had a mad idea, maybe,  _just maybe_ if he managed to hex Harry insane, or to somehow suffer as much as possible in the minute or so before the Dark Lord killed him, maybe the Dark Lord would reward him for his ingenuity. Maybe he'd be praised and... made right hand man. Have real  _power_ !

So... he cast a curse that was  _supposed_ to make Harry babble insanely and suffer from an itch that just wouldn't go away – hence the insanity. Instead, he stumbled over the words – despite saying them nonverbally in his head – and the curse went awry. Thank every God he'd ever HEARD of that the color from the spell was indistinguishable from the mist in the graveyard, and so, no one noticed his blunder. If he was very very lucky, no one ever would...

Wormtail released Harry, who wobbled unsteadily on his injured leg even as the Death Eaters closed in so that he couldn't escape. By this point, Voldemort had actually turned to look around his circle again, scrutinizing his Death Eaters before turning to face Harry once more. As he did, he spoke: “You have been taught how to duel, Harry Potter?”

Harry didn't answer, but Voldemort turned to give him a little bow. “We bow to each other, Harry. Come, the niceties must be observed. Dumbledore would like you to show manners... Bow to death, Harry...”

The Death Eaters were laughing again, but Harry did nothing. Voldemort straightened up to cast a spell to  _force_ him to bow. “I said...”

But Voldemort trailed off, walking closer to Harry, who didn't have anywhere to escape to. With a strange expression, the Dark Lord regarded Harry, looking almost puzzled. Then... he reached out and tried to tickle Harry's armpit. Harry twitched in confusion and tried to sidle away.

Undaunted, Voldemort used both hands to try to tickle both of Harry's armpits. Harry couldn't help but chuckle even as he tried to back away.

“Ha ha, stop, what are you doing?” Harry asked desperately.

“Planning to murder you, of course,” Voldemort assured him.

“Er...” Harry droned, not quite sure how to respond to that. Meanwhile, Voldemort was now trying to tickle his sides. The tickling got progressively worse until Harry flopped to the ground in an attempt to get away, unable to stop himself from laughing.

“My Lord?” Lucius asked in confusion.

“Not to worry, Lucius, I'm just softening him up,” Voldemort stated as if this was no more important than the weather.

Since he couldn't quite reach Harry without bending over in an undignified manner, he cast a light tickling spell all over his body. Harry was laughing so hard now that he was gasping for breath and rolling back and forth in an attempt to escape.

“A most devious form of torture...” one of the Death Eaters remarked.

Harry, grasping his wand desperately, rolled onto his back so that he could try to expel Voldemort's wand from his hand – and thereby end the tickling. Weirdly, in addition to using his wand to tickle Harry, Voldemort was now also using the toes of his bare foot.

Beyond desperate, and now laughing so hard that he was coughing – a sort of hack up his lungs cough – Harry took a deep breath and shouted “EXPELLIARMUS!!!”

But at the same time, Voldemort had enough presence of mind to stop all tickling and counter with: “ _Avada Kedavra_ !”

A jet of green light collided with a jet of red, and the two spells formed a narrow beam of light that arced back and forth between the two of them – Harry managing to get to his feet so that he could  _really_ concentrate. The colors changed to a deep shimmering gold that formed a weird web-like net all around them. Spots of light seemed to travel toward Harry and he instinctively knew that he  _needed_ them to go to Voldemort instead.

It was the hardest thing Harry had ever done in his life, but he managed to  _will_ those spots to Voldemort, and when they connected his wand, they somehow forced echoes of laughter and screams to ring out, followed by the ghost of a hand, and then Cedric...

Harry nearly dropped his wand then, but had it in a death grip with both his hands. Slowly, a few more ghosts emerged from the wand until even Harry's mum and dad were there. They both advised him to hold on just a bit longer, and then take the Portkey cup back to Hogwarts. Cedric asked Harry to take his body back.

Through an act of INSANE luck, Harry – once he yanked his wand up and broke the weird golden bond between them – managed to run over to Cedric – dodging spells left and right – until he dove onto Cedric's body and – just as Voldemort was ONCE AGAIN about to cast the Killing Curse – summoned the cup and was gone.

Back at Hogwarts, the crowd burst into raucous celebration, assuming that Harry and or Cedric had just won the TriWizard Tournament. Only... nothing could be further from the truth...

Harry felt a bit numb as Dumbledore eventually took over and got all the details out of Barty Crouch Jr. - who had been Polyjuicing into Professor Moody all year. Harry was allowed to recuperate in the Hospital Wing until it was time to return to the Dursleys. Especially once Ron and Hermione showed up to visit him and...

“Hey! Wait! Stop! What are you doing?!?!” Harry demanded between laughs as his best friends suddenly started tickling him, one standing on either side of him so that he couldn't wriggle away.

Madam Pomfrey – who had somehow been immune to the curse – quickly scanned Harry and discovered that he had some sort of garbled curse on him that she couldn't untangle and get rid of. The best she could do was cast a spell to curb the effects of it on Ron and Hermione, and then promise to research ways to break the curse by the time he returned in the fall.. Needless to say, Harry was allowed to ride his broom with only Dumbledore as an escort back to Privet Drive that year.

***

Back at Number 4 Privet Drive, Harry trudged to his room, grateful that the Dursleys weren't home at the moment. He flopped on his bed and tried his best to NOT think about what had happened. Voldemort had been resurrected. Cedric had died. Life was definitely going to get worse!

When the Dursleys returned, Vernon shouted angrily up the stairs that no one had the courtesy to tell  _them_ that Harry was taking his own way home. Harry tossed a shoe at his door to shut it rather emphatically. In retaliation, the Dursleys didn't exactly  _lock_ him in his room, but insisted through the closed door that he stay there as much as possible – if he knew what was good for him.

Miraculously, Harry managed to avoid the Dursleys for several weeks. But then... Vernon came in to Harry's room to complain about Hedwig. “THAT RUDDY OWL –” Vernon stopped abruptly when he saw Harry sitting on his bed. The two of them stared at each other for a long moment. Then, as if unable to stop himself, Vernon slowly, jerkily, walked over to Harry.

“Oh no,” Harry muttered apprehensively. He held his hands up and waved them back and forth a bit frantically. “Listen, Uncle Vernon, I have a curse on me! You DON'T want to be in here!”

“Is that a bloody threat?” Vernon asked menacingly, now next to Harry. He reached out and tried to tickle the part of Harry's neck just above his shirt opening.. Harry ducked to the side, basically throwing himself on his bed.

But this didn't deter Vernon. He reached out with both hands and tickled Harry anywhere he could reach as Harry rolled around on his bed. When Harry fell off his bed to land at Vernon's feet, the large man squatted with great difficulty so that he could continue the torturous wiggling of his fingers all over Harry's body. Not even his denims and thick cotton tee shirt provided much defense.

Harry was now squealing with helpless laughter and trying his best to roll under his bed, only he was at the one angle that made that difficult unless he rolled away and flattened out first.

“VERNON!!!” Petunia cried out in shock. “ _What are you doing?_ ” She was staring at her husband so hard that she wasn't looking at Harry in the slightest.

Vernon looked over at her, and that seemed to end the effects of the curse, for the moment at least. “Erm...” He flushed with embarrassment. “I'm teaching this sodding boy a lesson.”

Petunia gave him a look of suspicious disbelief. To Harry's relief, she insisted Vernon leave the room before he could look at Harry again.

A few days later, Harry was laying under the window out in the yard so that he could listen to the news without his Aunt and Uncle seeing him. To his relief, nothing important or suspicious that could be Voldemort's fault happened. Unfortunately, a loud banging like someone Apparating caught his aunt and uncle's attention, making him jump up to protect himself, bang his head excruciatingly on the open window, and enrage his uncle to the point that Vernon tried to strangle him.

After a moment, Vernon's expression turned weird and he loosened his grip on Harry so that he could hold him still with one hand to the throat while the other tickled his armpit.

“Vernon!” Petunia hissed angrily. Vernon let go and turned to argue with her. Harry stepped to the side of the window so that they couldn't see him anymore, but before he could escape, his aunt cried out: “Why were you lurking under our window?”

“Yes – yes, good point, Petunia! _What were you doing under our window, boy?_ ” Vernon demanded, only half trying to look out the window at him, and thus not looking at him directly.

“Listening to the news,” Harry replied in a resigned voice.

“Listening to the news! _Again?_ ”

“Well, it changes every day, you see,” Harry pointed out as patiently as he could.

“Don't you be clever with me, boy!” He went on, but ended up provoking his wife again, which led to all three of them arguing for a bit before Harry lost all patience.

“We know you're up to something funny,” Aunt Petunia accused.

“We're not stupid, you know, “Uncle Vernon added with a growl.

“Well _that's_ news to me!” Harry snapped before running off. He more or less wandered aimlessly until he came across Dudley, and with the mood he was in, he had no problem threatening Dudley with an actual hex.

Except that Dementors showed up and Harry ended up saving both their arses instead. Perhaps most shocking of all was when Mrs. Figg showed up and told him not to put his wand away – after he'd scared the Dementors off. She – perhaps intuitively – was not looking directly at Harry, but instead, looking all around them in case the Dementors came back and she needed to warn them.

Staying in front of them and threatening to kill Mundungus Fletcher the entire way – even after he popped up and then popped off to tell Dumbledore what had happened – she escorted them back to Number 4 Privet Drive. By that point, Harry was bursting with questions for her, but she ran off before he could ask them.

It was chaos in the house for around a half an hour with Dudley vomiting, the Dursleys all accusing him of attacking Dudley, an owl arriving to expel him from Hogwarts followed by another to tell him that it will be taken care of and not to leave the house, another telling him not to leave the house, one telling him that he was not quite expelled yet and had a hearing instead, and finally a howler that shamed Petunia into standing up to her husband when he tried to evict Harry from their house.

It wasn't until after he was back in his room with orders from his Aunt not to leave it again for the rest of the summer, that Harry realized that extreme events must override the curse, since neither his Aunt nor uncle – nor cousin – had tried to tickle him despite staring at him quite furiously.

He wrote letters to Sirius and his friends demanding answers, but none came. For three days, Harry wavered back and forth between restless and furious energy, and lethargy and apathy. That night, Uncle Vernon came into his room while he was staring listlessly at the ceiling. Vernon was holding a coil of rope that turned out to be four smaller coils of rope. Just enough to tie Harry to the bed.

Despite being a little confused and wary of why he wasn't just grounded to his room but  _tied_ to his bed, Harry couldn't truly care about anything at the moment. It wasn't until Vernon pulled off his socks and gave him a malevolent look that Harry realized what was going on. 

“Listen, Uncle Vernon, I've got a curse on me that makes people want to tickle me. You don't _really_ want to tickle me, as it means you're being controlled by magic!” Harry tried to explain even as Vernon lightly brushed the bottoms of Harry's feet – which sent shivers up and down his spine.

“Yeah? Well well I don't bloody care about your curse! Whether directly or not – _YOU_ are the reason that Dudley was attacked. You deserved to be punished, more than just sitting comfortably in your room!”

And with that, Vernon started tickling Harry's feet in earnest. No matter how much Harry wiggled and squirmed and  _begged_ him to stop, Vernon wouldn't hear or say a word. He tickled Harry's feet until he was screaming from the laughter, then moved onto his belly – which was somehow even worse.

“No! No! STOP!” Harry cried, wailing from tears and laughter and utter desperation. “STOP! I'm – I'm gonna! I'm gonna – AH!!!” Tied up and helpless to escape, Harry had no choice but to pee his pants.

This seemed to fill Vernon with a perverse satisfaction. “Filthy little bastard – just like your parents, I'm sure.”

“THAT IS ENOUGH!” Petunia called out from in the hall, where she wasn't even daring to look into the room in case she caught the madness her husband seemed to be suffering from. “Now I'll have to change his sheets and wash his mattress!”

“Let him suffer from the stink! Let the mattress rot! It's only what he deserves!” Vernon insisted, finally relenting in his tickling to look toward his wife as he spoke to her.

“Yes, but... Dudley admitted that Harry drove away the thing that was attacking him. It may be his freakishness that attracted the foul creatures to begin with, but he... He's been punished now. Get out of there!”

Heaving a great sigh, Vernon stood up and left the room, not bothering to free Harry from his bondage. This meant that Harry had to suffer the indignity of laying in a rapidly cooling puddle of urine until it was full dark.

Petunia came in and did not turn on a light. “Listen, boy, I don't know how you're working your... freak ways on Vernon, but I'm not going to fall for them. I will not look at you but I WILL free you from those ropes, and then you're going to go to the bathroom and take a  _thorough_ shower while I clean up this mess. Got it?!”

As it turned out, Harry had struggled so much during his tickle torture that the knots were impossible to untie, and so, Petunia had to use an extremely sharp knife to cut the ropes off. To Harry's surprise, she actually took enough care NOT to cut him. After about a good ten minutes of hard work, Harry was finally free and more than grateful to grab his bathrobe and head off to the bathroom to take a long hot shower.

Even better, when he was done and back in his rather messy room, it was to find his mattress flipped over – the strong smell of cleaner suggesting it had been washed first – and was now covered in crisp and fresh smelling sheets. Sighing in relief, Harry climbed into bed and... obsessed over why in the bloody hell his friends were ignoring him.

The next evening, Harry was locked in his room so the Dursleys could leave for a bit, only to be shocked when nearly a dozen people showed up to escort him to a safe place. At first, it was dark, but then a witch named Tonks used a Lumos. Harry rushed to shake hands with Lupin, who frowned in confusion when his other hand immediately tried to tickle Harry's side. The other witches and wizards crowded in with outstretched hands until Moody Disillusioned him and that seemed to curb their enthusiasm.

Harry quickly explained that he had a curse on him in which everyone who looked at him wanted to tickle him. This made Lupin stroke his chin in thought and wonder if he had any books that could help. In short order, Harry was packed up – with help from Tonks – and ready to go. On a long and VERY cold broom ride to someplace he'd never been before.

Inside an old and rather dingy house, Harry was beyond happy to see and hug Molly, who promptly tried to tickle him (as Moody had unthinkingly taken off the Disillusionment just then). Thankfully, everyone else was already headed off to a meeting and weren't looking at him.

Molly's tickling got determined enough that Harry couldn't help but snort and snicker. However, Molly seemed to have an inner strength of will that helped her multitask.  _While_ tickling Harry, she rushed him up the stairs and pointed out the room he was going to be staying in. Then – with a noticeable force of will – she turned and left him to it while she rushed off to the meeting.

Sighing in relief, Harry went into his assigned room to find Ron and Hermione beyond happy to see him. Hermione practically attacked him with a hug, babbling at high speeds as she squeezed him tight for a moment.

“HARRY! Ron, he’s here, Harry’s here! We didn’t hear you arrive!

Oh, how _are_ you? Are you all right? Have you been furious with us? I

bet you have, I know our letters were useless — but we couldn’t tell

you anything, Dumbledore made us swear we wouldn’t, oh, we’ve got

so much to tell you, and you’ve got to tell us — the Dementors! When

we heard — and that Ministry hearing — it’s just outrageous, I’ve

looked it all up, they can’t expel you, they just can’t, there’s provision

in the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Sorcery for the use of

magic in life-threatening situations —”

“Let him breathe, Hermione,” Ron ordered as he shut the door behind them. Hermione pulled back to do so and took a good look at him.

“Ah! Hermione! Stop!” Harry squealed when she promptly started tickling him. Ron had turned around by now and joined in.

“Sorry mate, I can't seem to stop myself,” Ron apologized as they _really_ tickled his sides.

Already gasping and trying to escape, Harry was grateful that Hedwig swooped over and drove them away before landing on his shoulder. Finally – FINALLY – it was time to vent his anger! He yelled and shouted at them so much that they wouldn't quite look at him, and also seemed to lose all desire to tickle him. Which made Hermione remember that Madam Pomfrey had taught her the spell to curb the effects of the curse on them. She also made a mental note to cast it on everyone in Grimmauld place.

***

For the hearing that Harry had to attend, and then a few weeks later when he rode the Hogwarts Express back to school, the best solution they could come up with – other than casting spells on everyone who saw Harry to help them control their urge to tickle him, was to cast a spell on Harry that made him slightly blurry to those that looked him. It seemed to work in that no one in the Ministry or on the train tried to tickle him. The problem was that the spell was only temporary and had to be renewed every hour. The other problem was that Harry could not cast the spell on himself – which is not to say that he couldn't cast the spell at all, simply that the curse itself seemed to make it impossible for him to cast anything on himself that would negate the curse.

Thus, he was utterly grateful to Hermione for having an alarm charm set to go off every hour so that she could pop in from her Prefect duties in order to keep him nice and fuzzy looking. All in all, things were going well, even though Ron gad to cast spells on himself and the other boys in the dorm each morning to curb the urge to tickle him – at least until Harry got dressed and Hermione was able to spell him again.

In fact things were going so well that by the time Harry showed up for his first detention with Umbridge – for having gotten angry and shouting the truth at her – he forgotten all about something rather unpleasant. For much longer than an hour, Harry sat writing  _I must not tell lies_ with a quill that took the the blood directly from the back of his hand.

After staring at him for the first 10 minutes or so to see if he was going to say anything, Umbridge had focused on her paperwork and didn't look at him again, until Harry paused – a good three or four hours later – to look at the back of his hand. That's when Umbridge looked up at him.

“Come here and let me see your hand.”

Harry obeyed, hoping that he would be told to go back to his dorm. Upon inspection, Umbridge looked a little disappointed. “Barely made an impression. No matter...”

It was at that point that her hand that wasn't holding Harry's slid up his side until it was wedged in his armpit. Harry groaned: “Oh no. Professor? Can I go back now? Otherwise the Tickling Curse on me is going to make you want to tickle me until –” he gasped. Her other hand had dropped his and was now tickling his stomach – one of his two  _most_ ticklish spots!

“Hem!” Umbridge harrumphed in her strange little cough. “I don't think you've been punished nearly enough.” She then cast a spell on Harry that didn't quite immobilize him fully, but made it impossible for him to run away or drop to the floor to try and escape.

After that, Umbridge quite got into it. Using both hands, she wiggled her fingers everywhere, trying to find his most ticklish spots and make him squeal as loudly as possible. She tried under his chin, his armpits, his stomach, his sides, even his buttocks!

Unfortunately for Harry,  _everywhere_ was ticklish. It had to be part of the curse because it hadn't been like that before. So, it didn't matter where she tickled, he couldn't help but gasp and squeal with laughter and  _beg_ her to stop. Suddenly, something unexpected happened.

“Er... Stop! You need to stop! I'm gonna –!” But once again, the thing Harry was going to do happened before he could finish saying it. With a great heave, Harry ended up vomiting all over Umbridge's front.

“Ugh!” She exclaimed in pure disgust, her attention now off Harry and onto herself. “That's quite enough, I should think. Off you go!”

Thankfully, this seemed to cancel the spell on Harry preventing him from leaving. Sighing in relief and not sorry in the slightest, Harry spun around and ran off at top speed. He did not slow down for any reason and ran straight to his dorm, to the communal shower, where he could strip off his vomit spattered clothes and clean up.

The moment the water was the perfect temperature and Harry stepped under it, Ron entered the room. “Are you okay? And don't worry, I spelled myself so that I won't attack you with tickles.”

Harry shrugged, looking at Ron before tilting his head so that the water could get his hair wet. “I'm fine.”

“I saw you running like you were being chased by Fluffy. What happened?” Ron wondered.

Harry got another good look at him. “What happened to you? You look like you just got dragged across the entire grounds of the castle.”

Ron sighed wearily. “Don't laugh... It's stupid really, but... I was trying to practice for the Keeper tryouts. There! Go on, laugh!”

Harry shook his head. “Why would I laugh? I think it's cool. I'd  _love_ to have you on the team with me.”

“Yeah?” Ron asked hopefully. But before Harry could answer, he frowned and reverse nodded at Harry. “So... What DID happen to you? Umbridge force you to muck out her office?”

Deciding that since Ron had been honest with him – despite be clearly reluctant to do so – he'd be a terrible friend if he lied or deflected now. So, Harry held up his hand and showed Ron the writing. “She had me writing lines with a quill that used my own blood for ink.”

“That's terrible, mate! You should report her to McGonagall! Or Dumbledore!” Ron cried out, instantly on Harry side and trying to get him to do what was best.

Harry shook his head. “No, I'm not going to give the bitch the satisfaction of knowing that she got to me. Besides, after writing enough lines to satisfy her for the night, the fuzzy spell had worn off, so when she told me to let her look at my hand, she looked right at me and got hit by the full effect of the curse. She tickled me until I chucked up all over her, so, I got her back and good!”

Ron raised an amused brow as he realized that this was why Harry had run straight to the shower. Deciding that he needed one as well, he pulled off all his clothes – tossing them in the hamper on top of Harry's, and stepped up to the shower right next to him.

“Oh to be a lacewing on the wall!” Ron exclaimed, clearly relishing the mental image of Harry vomiting all over the evil toad.

When they were done with their showers, they wrapped towels around their waists and left the bathroom in a quest to get their pajamas on. Unfortunately, as they emerged from the bathroom attached to the dorm, Seamus was just about to enter it. As a result, he literally bumped into Harry and stumbled back a few steps. His face was already wearing a look that suggested he was wondering where to tickle Harry first, and his hand was already reaching out to do so.

Ron quickly cast the spell to negate the urge to tickle Harry. “Sorry there, Seamus. Didn't expect anyone else to be in here yet, or I'd have come out first and spelled everyone.”

Seamus shook his head a couple of times, as if trying to rid himself of cobwebs. “That's... alright... I had no fecking idea what a powerful curse that was! I was screamin' at meself in me head that I don't wanna to look at Harry at the moment, much less tickle him, and me hand didn't care. It moved on its own!”

Ron patted Seamus on the back sympathetically even as Harry quickly stepped around him and grabbed his pajamas out of his trunk so that he could get dressed and crawl into the privacy of his bed before anyone else showed up.

To his  _profound_ relief, when he arrived at detention the next night, Umbridge gave him a look of barely concealed distaste. “Sit down, Mr. Potter, and continue writing your lines. And don't worry, I've consulted Madam Pomfrey about the curse you mentioned, and she taught me a spell to cast on myself so that I don't react to the curse. You should be quite safe with me from now on.”

“Safe, _sure_ ,” Harry muttered under his breath as he sat down and picked up the quill. Without another word, Harry did as he was told.

***

Months passed. Harry had a horrifying vision in which he was a giant snake that bit Arthur Weasley. After making a fuss until everyone believed him – thereby saving Arthur's life – Harry spent the entire Christmas hols at Grimmauld place with Sirius and the Weasleys. Just before it was time to go back, Snape showed up with unpleasant news.

“I have to take Occlumency from him,” Harry told his two best friend after the hated professor had left.

Hermione was convinced this was a good idea, but Ron was the same opinion as Harry – that he'd rather suffer the nightmares than have to take extra lesson from Snape.

Come the first day of lessons, Harry showed up as prepared as possible. He'd had Hermione renew the fuzzy spell just as he left Gryffindor Tower, praying that it held for the full hour since Snape said he refused to give more of his time than that. He also had his cloak with him so that he could use it to get back to Gryffindor Tower unmolested if necessary.

The lesson was... weird. It consisted of Snape trying to break into Harry's mind and Harry trying to defend himself – and supposedly in the process, learning how to defend his mind from such attacks at all times.

As Harry was once again on his hands and knees on the floor panting, Snape looked at his watch. “Our hour is up...”

Harry was so worn out by this point, that he didn't have the capacity to register Snape walking over to him. He had one insane moment where he thought that Snape was going to give him a hand up, but then Snape made a noise that suggested he was contemplating a deep mystery.

Suddenly, Harry felt a hand on his side.

“Oh no!” He gasped out, realizing that the fuzzy spell had worn off. “Professor listen! I've got a serious Tickling Curse on me! Anyone who looks at me wants to tickle me. _Surely_ you CAN'T want to actually tickle me!”

Snape drawled in his snide voice. “The staff has been informed of your predicament, which is why we all tolerate you looking like a blur in our classes. To be honest, I feel it improves your features greatly.” As he said this, his other hand was now tickling Harry's other side. “And NO, I do not want to be tickling you, but I cannot stop myself, Potter, so you may consider yourself unfortunate.”

Harry gasped from uncontrollable laughter, rolling around in an attempt to escape, but Snape was surprisingly able to keep up with him. He was too weak to jump to his feet and run away – considering that he was still suffering from all the attacks on him over the past hour – but that didn't mean he just took it in silence.

“Professor! If you keep that up – I'm warning you now – when my Uncle tied me to the bed and tickled me, I ended up pissing on him, and when Umbridge cast a spell to prevent me from escaping, I sicked up all over her. If you don't stop, I'll end up doing the same to you!”

“My mind comprehends the consequences, but my hands will not stop, Potter,” Snape informed him. Not only would they not stop, but since Harry kept trying to roll away, Snape had escalated things a bit by forcing Harry onto his back, and then straddling his hips. This gave him the perfect opportunity and angle to keep on tickling Harry's neck, armpits, sides, and stomach until Harry was shrieking and wailing from the torture.

Strangely – perhaps because Harry had taken a bathroom break before coming  _and_ had been too wound up to eat much for dinner – neither of his threatened consequences occurred. He lay there laughing so hard that he was coughing and hiccuping,  _praying_ that something would happen to gross Snape out and get him to back off. Actually... in this position, simply peeing was  _bound_ to have an affect.

So, because his body wasn't doing it on its own, Harry decided to try to shut down his mind and focus  _everything_ on doing exactly that. For a moment, his laughter calmed slightly and the actual feeling of being tickled got slightly easier to bear.

“Hmm...” Snape hummed in thought. “You seem to _finally_ be doing as I told you to at the very beginning...”

Tempted to snort derisively, Harry thought  _NOW_ ! A moment later, he forced himself to pee his pants – a thing he had not ever willingly done in his life, or at least not since he was just a baby in nappies.

Snape looked rather disgusted, but he did not let up. In fact, his tickling got a bit more intense – if that was possible. Harry's intense concentration of a moment ago vanished, and his screams got louder than ever.

“STOP!!! PROFESSOR! _PLEASE_ STOP!!! I'LL DO ANYTHING YOU ASK!”

Suddenly, there was a loud banging on the door.

“Go AWAY!” Snape snapped, not even bothering to turn his head to look at the door. Although, he couldn't stop himself from shifting his body slightly as if preparing to defend himself, which inadvertently ground his groin into Harry's, which...

The door burst open – since it hadn't been locked. “ _I'm really sorry, Professor, but I have to stop you!_ ” Hermione cried out in a tone that plainly announced that she was agonizing over having to so blatantly disobey a teacher. Before he could react in any way – other than looking at her over his shoulder – Hermione cast the spell to negate his urge to tickle Harry.

Snape lifted his hands slowly, as if having been told to make no sudden moves by an officer, and sat back with a look of clear disgust on his face. “ _Potter_ , you may go.”

“Then get off of me!” Harry roared, beyond caring how he talked to the arsehole.

It took a moment for Snape to think over how best to do this, and then grabbed the chair Harry had been sitting in so that he could use it to help himself get to his feet. The moment he stepped away from Harry, Harry rolled over and shakily got to his hands and knees. It took a few deep breaths to gather up the strength to stand, but by then, Hermione had come over to give him a hand. More than a hand as she used her body weight to haul him to his feet, and then slung one of his arms over her shoulders so that she could support his weight as they walked away. She even very kindly (and without a word) cast a spell to dry off and clean his trousers.

“Thank you for coming to get me,” Harry said, his voice weak from exhaustion and overuse.

“No problem,” she assured him with a small smile, and then frowned. “You should report this to Dumbledore. Tell him that you _cannot_ take private lessons from anyone until your curse is broken.”

Harry sighed in frustration. “Madam Pomfrey says that she's tried everything she could to break this curse. Bill has too. And they both say that because it was some sort of accidental jumble, nothing breaks it. It must have a very specific countercurse, but only the person who cast it would know what it is, and since it seems to have been an accident, THEY might not even know it either.”

“Even MORE reason to –” 

But Harry cut her off. “I already know that he'll tell me to keep on living my life the best I can despite the curse. It's what Madam Pomfrey told me, and you KNOW she's the type to keep a person in hospital until they've been cured. But Dumbledore told her that since there are ways to manage this curse, I have to keep on going as long as I can.”

Hermione sighed in defeat. “Yeah, but I don't like it. How far would Snape have gone had I not stopped him? He was holding you down and –!” She stopped abruptly and looked away with a flush.

Harry had an uncomfortable feeling he knew what she was going to say – that it was starting to look a lot like it was headed in an even more unpleasant direction. “You'll just have to come pick me up each week,” he mumbled.

She nodded in agreement, a rather fierce expression on her face.

***

A few Occlumency lessons later, and Harry was not making any progress at all. Oh sure, he was getting slightly better at defending himself and had broken into Snape's mind once or twice, but he hadn't managed to protect his mind in the slightest. Part of the problem was the fact that he didn't WANT to stop from seeing in Voldemort's head. He had a deep belief that doing so would eventually be the key to stopping him once and for all.

Thus, Snape was getting frustrated by Harry's lack of progress and taunting him. “You're such a bloody moron, Potter! You can't even stop me from seeing your worst memories and giving me ammunition to use against you! You were doing better when I unwillingly tickled you!”

Thanks to Hermione coming to pick him up each week, Snape hadn't succumbed to the curse again. This time, they hadn't even started yet, and Harry suspected that Snape was considering tickling him ON PURPOSE – and not because of the curse. The look on Snape's face certainly suggested that he was considering it.

Abruptly, Snape conjured up a rack against the bare wall off to his left.

“Oh no!” Harry protested, backing away in horror.

Snape ignored him and cast a spell to grab Harry and levitate him over to the rack – and then secure him to it.

“No! _Come on_!” Harry protested, struggling against his bonds. To his horror, he was secured nice and tight – or well not tight since his wrists and ankles still had blood flow, but rather magically and inescapably.

“I'm going to end the spell blurring your features and let myself be swept away by your curse, and MAYBE you'll finally be motivated enough to block your pathetic little mind from me!”

He raised his wand to cast a Finite Incantatum, only for there to come a loud bang as the door that to his office had burst open to reveal Draco Malfoy rushing in. He stopped short, his sentence cutting itself off in surprise and shock.

“Professor Snape, sir – oh – sorry...”

Snape lowered his wand and turned to face Draco. “It's alright, Draco, Potter is here for a little Remedial Potions.”

Draco looked a strange cross between gleeful to hear that and confused by the situation. “I didn't know, but erm, sir? A rack???”

Snape merely waved that away. “Potter has the brains of a troll, and so, the only way to get the information into him is to  _beat_ it in.”

Draco did not know how to take this news, looking baffled and – to Harry's extreme dislike – seemed to be on the verge of asking if he could help.

“Well Draco, what is it?” Snape demanded.

“It's Professor Umbridge, sir – she needs your help,” Draco explained. “They found Montague, sir. He's turned up jammed inside a toilet on the fourth floor.”

“How did he get in there?” Snape questioned.

“I don't know, sir, he's a bit confused...”

Snape sighed unhappily, slowly turning to look back at Harry. “Very well, very well – Potter, we shall resume this lesson tomorrow evening instead.”

Harry was released from his bondage, and spent a moment rubbing his wrist – which was just fine but felt like it  _should_ hurt – before patting his pocket to make sure his wand had not fallen out of it. Then he spotted the Pensieve again and... made a rash decision based off his anger in general and the treatment he'd just been subjected to, to dive right in and see exactly what it was Snape did not want him to see. This earned him such wrath from Snape that he  _refused_ to teach Harry Occlumency ever again.

Which Harry wasn't too sad about. Better, Snape seemed to forget about wanting to string Harry up and torture him. All in all, he was actually happy – and horribly  _horribly_ guilty – about Snape nearly murdering him upon finding him in his memories.

Or he was, until Draco caught him coming up out of the dungeons. Harry had no idea how long he'd been caught in Snape's memories, but judging by the look on Draco's face, it was more than the hour the fuzzy spell lasted. Hermione told him later that she'd run across Snape and been told he'd been let go early, and so, hadn't bothered to come looking for him – assuming he'd gone to bed.

Instead, he was preparing to hex the bloody hell out of Draco!

Draco shook his head as if trying to shake away unpleasant ideas. “Why do I want to tickle you so badly?”

“Don't even try it, Malfoy!” Harry warned, his wand at the ready.

In contrast, Draco's wand was not at the ready, it was simply in his hand and Draco was actually using it to scratch his head. “No really, it's weird. I have the  _strangest_ urge to tackle you to the floor and tickle you until you – er –” He cut himself off with a flush, stammering for a moment as he looked at the wall.

This confused the hell out of Harry, who even lowered his wand and simply stared at Draco.

“Petrificus Totalis!” Draco cried out abruptly, and then followed this up with: “Locomotor Potter.” Looking around very carefully, he made absolutely _certain_ that no one was around to see him, and then levitated Harry into a class room that was almost never used for anything other than occasional study and illicit nighttime meetings.

Once inside the room, Draco shut and locked the door, and then scrunched his face up in thought. “Not a rack... hmm... I... I suppose... It  _would_ be most comfortable... Yes...”

And having apparently reached an agreement with himself, Draco quickly transfigured a few of the desks together into a rather large bed, and then levitated Harry onto it. After pulling his necktie off, he used a spell to duplicate it until he had four in total. Then he used a spell to bind Harry's hands and feet to the head and footboard, using the ties more as decoration then as actual binding.

When Draco finally ended the Full Body-Bind Curse, Harry's first question was a baffled: “What the bloody hell are you doing,  _Malfoy_ ?”

Draco gave him a somewhat confused look. “I have no idea why, but I want to tickle and tease you.”

Harry hissed in frustration. “That's because I have a curse on me so  _everyone_ who sees me wants to tickle me! If you had just let me run away, this wouldn't be happening now!”

Draco shrugged with an expression that said:  _sorry, not sorry._ Then he cast a spell that made all of Harry's clothes fly off him, fold itself neatly, and form a little pile on a desk.

“Er...” Harry droned in utter confusion.

Draco cast his school robes aside but left all the rest of his clothes on. He then rolled up his sleeves, exposing his smooth and creamy arms up to his elbows. After that, he slowly climbed onto the bed with Harry, his eyes roaming all over in clear indecision as to where to start.

“Malfoy?” Harry began apprehensively. This seemed... like a _whole_ lot more than just tickling.

Draco brushed his fingers lightly down Harry's side, causing him to squirm from the softly ticklish sensation. Draco repeated the action, traveling ever so slowly from Harry's side to the middle of his chest. Harry couldn't help it, his breath had hitched from an emotion that didn't resemble  _anything_ he associated with being tickled. It felt... sort of hot and... tingly and... nice???

Harry gasped in shock when Draco replaced his fingers with his tongue. He licked a path from Harry's bellybutton on up to his left nipple. The motion of his tongue was fluttery light and left a faint, moist trail that Draco gently blew on.

Harry breath was inexplicable ragged now. “Malfoy???” He gasped out softly, not sure what to say or how to respond.

Draco ignored him, once again brushing his fingers along Harry's side even as his tongue now traced circles around Harry's bellybutton. Harry squirmed and tried to move his middle section out of Draco's reach, but of course, that was impossible. When Draco shifted away from Harry's bellybutton, Harry was relieved  _and_ strangely disappointed that it was up and not  _down_ to his...

Draco gently forced Harry to turn his head to the side so that he had access to his neck. Once again using his tongue, he flicked a very light path all along where Harry's neck met his shoulder. When Draco unexpectedly latched on and sucked rather strongly, Harry didn't even care that Draco's other hand's fingers were now making a sort of light galloping motion on his belly. The tiny shocks of tickling – that normally made Harry shriek with laughter and try to get away – simply exacerbated that problem with his breathing. He moaned and it sounded... like he wanted more...

Harry gasped in horror a moment later, his eyes locked on something he would dearly love to hide and  _never_ admit to, but was rather prominent at the moment. “Malfoy, stop!” He insisted breathily. “I'm...” but he couldn't say it out loud. In fact, he was now so embarrassed that when Draco pulled back to look at him, he refused to look him in the eyes.

Undaunted, Draco followed Harry's horror-struck eyes to what they stared at. “Oh, I see...” he murmured. His tongue gave Harry's neck one last tickle before shifting position again. “You want me to tickle you  _here_ ...”

“Erm!” Harry cried out in protest, but somewhere deep inside, he actually _did_ want that, so he couldn't say no.

Once again using a featherlight touch, Draco ran his tongue up and down and all over Harry's hard shaft. At the same time, his left hand wiggled its fingers all over Harry's bollocks, which was the  _strangest_ thing Harry had ever felt because the movement didn't connect with his actual bollocks, but rather the hair covering them, and that actually did tickle quite a lot, but also felt surprisingly good.

Fairly quickly, the prolonged teasing began to frustrate Harry, because it felt so damn good that he never wanted it to end, but at the same time, wasn't getting him as close to orgasm as he'd like to be. The best that had happened so far, was a sort of string oozing from him. For a moment, Harry wondered what would happen if he  _did_ orgasm and squirt Draco in the face.

That image proved to be the thing that pushed Harry over the edge. With a gasp of surprise and  _no_ time to spit out a warning, Harry felt his balls tighten up and a jolt of electricity run up his spine. Even his toes curled!

Draco took these signs in stride, quickly moving his mouth to cover Harry's shaft and give it a good suck.

“Oh God!” Harry cried out, arching his back in an attempt to get his entire shaft down Draco's throat.

When Harry was empty and had melted into the bed to pant in astonishment, Draco pulled off with a strange little kiss to Harry's puffy glans. “Don't pass out just yet, Potter. I'm not done tickling you.”

Harry was far too relaxed and lethargic for that to have made sense. “Hmm?”

Before Harry could gather up his wits, Draco cast all the spells necessary to turn Harry over, have a few pillows under his hips for proper elevation and support, and then re-secure everything so that Harry couldn't escape even if it occurred to him to try.

This time when Draco tickled Harry's neck with his tongue, it actually made Harry laugh. Soft closed mouth giggles that made his chest and stomach move but not to the point where he was squirming or trying to get away. Draco alternated the tickling with unexpected bite to the nape of Harry's neck. At the same time, his hand drew long lines down Harry's spine.

Harry's chuckling continued on, but was peppered liberally with moans of pleasure. When the repeated tickling strokes down Harry's spine were replaced with Draco's tongue, he couldn't help but arch his back up into it. Also, that was definitely a moan of encouragement.

Harry let out a tiny yelp of surprise when Draco gently nipped his right buttock. Before he could wrap his head around the fact that Draco had literally kissed his arse – a couple of times – Draco shifted until he was quite comfortable between Harry's legs. Harry couldn't get a good view of him – especially since he was pressing his forehead into the bed and moaning without any sort of shame now – but it felt like Draco was face to arse with him now.

Long and surprisingly gentle fingers tickled Harry's tight pucker, making Harry jump from being startled. He also gasped out a protest, but it was incoherent and more of a grunt than an actual word.

A moment later, his tongue took over the tickling again. Harry gasped in shock again. “Oh God, Malfoy! You  _can't_ actually want to put your tongue there!”

“Actually Potter,” Draco murmured, having pulled back just enough to speak. “This has featured in my wank bank more than once, so...” he trailed off and dove back in. Using his mouth and the fingers of his right hand, Draco soon had Harry gasping and crying into the bed.

“Oh God! Oh God! Malfoy! I think I'm gonna-gonna –” but a loud squeal interrupted him. “Oh God! Oh FUCK! Fucking fucking fuck! _AHHHH_!”

Draco kept up the tickling even after Harry finished cursing into the bed and started begging for mercy. The Tickling Curse did  _not_ care how Harry was feeling, so long as the tickling continued. Even so, Draco couldn't deny having fun hearing to Harry swear like a sailor.

“Fuck Malfoy! _PLEASE STOP!!!_ I'll give you anything you want if you just stop! My toes are curling so hard I think they're going to break off! What do you want? Do you want to shag me, Malfoy? I'll let you shag me, just STOP! Just... just... JUST BLOODY FUCKING SHAG ME DRACO!!!”

This had a rather unexpected effect: Draco stopped. He pulled back slightly to look at Harry, who turned his head to look him in the eye. The two stared at each other for a long moment.

“Do you mean that?” Draco finally asked.

“YES!” Harry gasped out, tilting his head a little to give a significant look at his own arse. “You've gotten me so bloody into this that I think I'll _die_ if I don't find out what happens next!”

“Well...” Draco murmured, looking Harry's body up and down as he thought this over. “Well... If it's what you want...”

“I DO! I BLOODY FUCKING DO!” Harry cried out emphatically. 

“Alright,” Draco agreed with a smirk. “I suppose I can do that, since you so fervently _insist_.”

Harry was ready to start shouting obscenities at him again, but since Draco turned his attention to unbuttoning his shirt, Harry quickly shut his mouth and enjoyed the show. After the third button, Draco had an odd frown cross his face and muttered to himself: “Why am I bloody doing it by hand???”

A moment later, he grabbed his wand and cast the spell to make his clothes fly off him and fold themselves before forming a neat little pile on a desk. Harry groaned to see him in all his naked glory. However, a tiny part of him was apprehensive to see Draco fully erect and ready to shag him.  _Yes_ , he had literally just insisted that Draco shag him, but the actual sight of the long and thin shaft made Harry wonder just how badly that was going to hurt.

Draco was so focused on the preparation spells, that he didn't see the hesitation in Harry's eyes. The last of the series (Harry couldn't even  _begin_ to guess what all the spells were!) had a bunch of oil appear in Draco's hand, which he used to slick up his own shaft. Harry turned his head so that he didn't have to see the thing he had insisted upon happen.

To his surprise, Draco was gentle. Harry half expected him to just ram right on in, but instead, there was a slow but firm push forward. Some of the spells Draco had cast simply  _had_ to be spells to help make this easier for Harry, because there was no pain, only a mild burn and some discomfort. Considering that Harry'd never seriously wondered what it might be like to do this, he was dead certain that it should hurt a hell of a lot. Instead...

He moaned into the bed. “That feels... surprisingly good...”

“Yeah?” Draco asked in a tone that suggested he was a bit chuffed to hear that.

“Yeah,” Harry assured him.

Draco held onto Harry's hips as he bottomed out, and then withdrew and repeated the action a few times to be  _sure_ that Harry was fully lubricated and able to handle something more. He then chose a demanding pace, still holding Harry's hips firmly, until his fingers reflexively tickled Harry's sides.

Harry couldn't decide whether to chuckle or moan in pleasure. The tickling was simultaneously annoying and... good. He closed his eyes and surrendered to the feel of being shagged for the first time.

When Draco got close, he stopped rather abruptly to give himself a minute to delay the inevitable, and also, run his fingers down Harry's spine again. Harry moaned and arched his back before instinctively grinding his arse into Draco. He really got into it, clenching and unclenching his groin muscles as if trying to milk Draco.

“Merlin and Salazar! If you keep doing that, I'm going to – Will it be alright if I do?” Draco cut himself off to ask.

“Yeah,” Harry said breathlessly, still grinding into Draco. “In fact, I want it. Come on Draco, do it!”

Draco groaned in longing, gripped Harry's hips firmly again, and put all of his concentration into a fast pace guaranteed to end things rather quickly. His own breath was escaping him in gasps and moans. Barely a full minute later, he cried out: “I'm! I'm!” Harry felt a hotness flood him that made him feel good in an entirely different way that anything so far. He felt... like he'd quite like to feel that every day – if at all possible.

After a series of soft grunts that ended with a happy sigh, Draco melted onto Harry's back. He was panting lightly and making noises that suggested he'd be pleased to go right to sleep with Harry as his bed. If he were honest, Harry wouldn't mind this either, as he was currently at least half out of it.

Unfortunately, Draco remembered that their OWLs were right around the corner, and that he really needed to study a bit more before bed. So, he slipped out of Harry, strangely reluctant to do so, despite having gone at least half soft already. Then he sat back on his knees and took a good look at Harry.

“Hmm... it seems your curse has a limit. Or else it _can_ be satisfied. Or, well, I dunno what I'm saying, just that I no longer want to tickle you at the moment.”

Harry sighed in relief, since his brain had had about a second to wonder what would happen once Draco looked at him properly again. Then he felt extremely self conscious. Torn between looking at Draco and not, Harry decided to keep his face buried in the bed.

“Are you... sorry...?” Harry asked, not certain he wanted to hear the answer.

Draco laughed softly. “No. I already told you, Potter, that most of this has been in my wank bank for a while. I just... I don't think I would have ever seriously thought about giving it a go had your curse not made the impulse impossible to resist.”

“Mmm...” Harry replied noncommittally.

A moment later, Draco released all the spells currently on Harry, who sighed happily and rolled over so that he could stretch out and wiggle all his muscles to see if he had any kinks that needed to be worked out. Draco watched him in mild amusement.

“Well... Potter... I should go. See you around.”

Harry gave him a small smile. “Maybe... well, maybe... we could... you know...”

Draco smirked at him. “Do this again?”

Harry nodded shyly.

“We'll see,” Draco murmured, giving him a kiss on the cheek before slipping out of bed and casting a spell to put his clothes back on in an instant – or well, more like a couple of seconds, but still. He gave Harry one last smirk and a wave goodbye as he left. 

Now alone, Harry managed to get out of bed and dress himself. If he were honest, no matter how good it had felt at the time, he was now a little sore and it felt a bit awkward to walk. Harry blushed as he wondered if anyone he came across would see how he was walking and know  _exactly_ what he had done. On second thought, he'd probably be tickled to death if he was spotted. Lucky he had his cloak in his pocket.

About 10 minutes later, Ron and Hermione were astonished to see Harry walk into the common room. He'd pulled his cloak off to give the password, and then promptly forgot that he didn't want anyone to see him at the moment. He was still lost in a highly dreamy remembrance of what had happened.

Luckily, Hermione noticed that he was attracting attention as people stood up and reached out to tickle him as he passed them by. Rather than cast the fuzzy spell on Harry – because  _she_ wanted to be able to see him clearly – she cast spells on everyone in the common room – all 20 of them – to negate their urge to tickle Harry.

“Mate, we thought you were already in bed,” Ron stated, since he'd heard from Hermione that Snape had let him go early, and Harry had been going straight to bed after his Occlumency lessons because his head always hurt and he couldn't concentrate anyway.

“Yeah, I erm...” he trailed off, still probably looking dreamy to the point of having been slipped a potion. Or maybe he looked drunk.

Hermione raised her brows. “Did you run into Cho and, erm...” She also trailed off, not wanting to force Harry to admit to anything in front of several unwanted witnesses. To her surprise, Harry sat down in the wooden chair next to her and rested his head on her shoulder.

Ron was now staring at him suspiciously. “ _Did_ you???”

In a soft voice that Harry hoped no one other than Hermione – and maybe Ron, who was leaning across the table – would hear, Harry asked: “Do you think that my Tickling Curse can make a person want to do other things to me if they didn't normally want to?”

Hermione thought this over for a moment. “Well, I suppose that it depends on what things you're talking about. If – for example – Cho kissed you when the curse was making her tickle you, then no, I don't think that would be because of the curse. I think it would be because she just wants to kiss you.”

“So...” Harry reasoned quietly. “If someone – _not_ Cho – tickled me with their tongue, it would be because he erm... wanted to lick me?”

Hermione decided that this called for far more privacy than could be found in the common room  _or_ boys' dorm. She glanced at the clock and found that 10 minutes remained before curfew. Nodding in agreement with herself, She stood up and pulled Harry out of the common room with her. Ron followed them, highly intrigued to hear the details of being tickled with a tongue.

Once they were outside the common room and across the corridor in an unused classroom, Hermione gestured for them to sit down. Once relatively comfortable sitting braced up against the wall, she turned to face Harry directly.

“Alright, what happened?”

He gave her a faint smile that still probably looked at least a little drunk. “Well, so there was a person – I don't want to say who – who came across me shortly after the fuzzy spell wore off. He seemed to have a bit of self control in that he didn't immediately hold out his hands and try to tickle me in the corridor. On the other hand, he – despite being rather confused by why he wanted to tickle me – cast a Petrificus Totalus on me, then levitated me to a nearby classroom.”

“Harry!” Hermione gasped out in dismay. “That's _worse_ than just tickling you!”

Harry shrugged. “Well I'd agree if he left it at that. Instead, he transfigured a bunch of desks into a bed, tied me to it, and tickled me all over with his tongue.” Harry blushed and looked away. “I was naked...” he added in a soft mutter he wasn't sure if he wanted them to hear or not.

“That's!” Hermione burst out in protest. She gripped Harry by both shoulders and shook him a bit. “You HAVE to report that to Madam Pomfrey! And McGonagall! AND DUMBLEDORE!!!”

Harry shook his head, now feeling much less dreamy and more like he wished he'd just kept his mouth shut. “No! Look, I know what you're thinking, that I was raped or something –”

Hermione cut him off: “ALL the tickling can be considered a form of rape because you  _don't want it_ ! But you just said this bloke tied you up  _naked_ and–” 

It was Harry's turn to cut her off. “And I  _liked_ it! I mean yeah sure, I was just going to suffer through a tickling because I had no choice at first, but absolutely NONE of it was horrible. He started by tickling me so gently that it could almost be called caressing sensually. And then – as I said – he used his tongue.  _Everywhere_ ! It was...” He blushed and looked away so that he didn't have to look her in the eye when he admitted this. “It was so bloody good that when he wasn't even planning to do anything more, I shouted at him to shag me. Fervently. More than once.”

Hermione gasped, her eyes wide in shock. “You...”

She looked at Ron, who was also goggling in shock.

Harry swallowed a bit nervously. “He wasn't planning it. I think he was twisting the curse in his head somehow so that he was more or less making love to me – without any intention of shagging me. But he got me so bloody desperate to  _do it_ that I shouted at him several times to, well...” he rolled his hand to say  _you know_ .

“And he did?” Ron asked, now equal parts curious and horrified that the other person in this scenario was a boy.

Harry sighed dreamily, practically melting into the wall. “I'd never considered doing that before, but I  _really_ liked it. And anyway, on my way back to Gryffindor Tower, I couldn't help but wonder if he only did any of it because the curse forced him to. In that case, wouldn't  _I_ be the rapist for making him shag me when he didn't actually want to?” He was frowning now, twisting his hands around each other. THIS was why he'd decided to ask Hermione rather than take this secret to his grave.

She was silent as she chewed on her bottom lip in thought for a long moment. “Well... I suppose... no. You said he seemed to have a bit of control. He dragged you to someplace private, and then used gentle methods that you actually enjoyed. I'd say – like the example I used of Cho kissing you – I'd say that if he licked and shagged you, it's because he wanted to.”

Harry sighed with relief so profound that he nearly passed out from it. “Good!”

Ron was practically dying from curiosity now. “What did you like about it?”

“ _ALL_ of it,” Harry replied, staring vaguely up at the ceiling now, since he was lying on his back.

Ron snorted in amusement. “Well sure, but I mean, what specifically?”

Harry grinned, not looking at his friends but still at the ceiling. “He, well I already said he was licking me everywhere. It was... nice. It got me... up, you know what I mean?”

They both nodded with light blushes.

“Then he licked _that_ and... God! That felt _really_ good!” Harry admitted.

“Well yeah!” Ron said with a chuckle. “I've heard others talking about it, and it sounds like even a troll could do it and it'd feel good!”

Harry laughed. “Maybe.”

“Did...” Hermione was combing her fingers through her bushy hair and sort of petting it. “Did he use protection?”

Harry shrugged. “I dunno, but I think he did. He cast a bunch of spells on me that I didn't recognize, and they didn't really seem to do anything, so yeah, probably.”

Hermione sighed, not exactly reassured, but relieved that it was a likelihood.

“And then what happened?” Ron prompted.

“He flipped me onto my stomach, not untying me, but by that point, he could have and I wouldn't have moved anyway. Then he used his fingers to tickle my spine before licking that too. And then, well, he erm, he... erm... licked...  _ there _ ...”

Ron looked frankly impressed. “I've heard that feels good too, but  _ no one _ in their right mind  _ wants _ to do it!”

Hermione was blushing a deep shade of red now, but giggled at this. “Well,  _ Ron, _ it sounds like this boy might be gay, and if so, he might actually  _ want _ to lick that after all.”

Harry held up his hand to examine his nails as an excuse to  _ really _ not look at them. “It felt so bloody good that I c-c-c  _ you know _ ! And THAT'S when I shouted at him to bloody shag me already.”

Now Ron looked skeptical. “And you liked even that?”

“Mmmhmm!” Harry confirmed, feeling a bit dreamy again. “Enough that I want to do it again, if I'm honest.”

Hermione sighed in a sort of profound relief. “Well, as glad as I am that you had a good first time, do you  _ realize _ how badly that could have gone? I really  _ really _ think you should talk to Dumbledore about this curse. After all, that one time I had to stop Snape from tickling you, it looked like he was about one second away from molesting and maybe even raping you!”

This reminded Harry of a couple of important things. “Well, you might be right about that. He had me magically bound to a rack earlier, and  _ only _ the sheer luck of having Malfoy burst in needing Snape to help Umbridge with Montague, well... He would have tickled me, and I'm not certain he would have stopped until both those other things happened.” Harry shuddered in horror. “But... I sort of, erm... trespassed...  _ Egregiously _ on his memories in the Pensieve, so... He refuses to teach me Occlumency anymore. Thus, I don't have to worry about him tickling me.”

“Oh Harry!” Hermione gasped in dismay. There was so much wrong with that explanation that she had to argue with herself for days to decide what the right thing in that situation actually was.

Meanwhile, Harry could  _ not _ stop thinking about Draco. Naked, mmm... And shagging. And  _ licking _ him everywhere. And... he  _ really _ wanted to corner him at every opportunity. Maybe snog a bit under the invisibility cloak. Maybe meet up in a classroom at night. Maybe... Maybe even sneak him into his bed!

Unfortunately, it was Easter hols and he didn't even  _ see _ Draco, let alone have any opportunity to corner him for any reason.

***

During Harry's last OWL – for History of Magic – he fell asleep and had a vision of Sirius being tortured by Voldemort. Frantic, Harry wanted to rush off and rescue him right away, but Hermione forced him to verify the information first. That led to him and all his friends getting caught, and then he and Hermione led Umbridge into the Forbidden Forest, but  _ eventually _ they were on their way to London, to the Ministry of Magic.

As it turned out, Sirius was  _ not _ being tortured. Feeling stupid, Harry cursed himself for leading his friends into danger. After an all too real battle, Harry was chasing after Bellatrix to get revenge on her for killing Sirius, when he caught up with her in the Atrium.

She tried to get the prophecy from him, but when he told her – honestly – that it had been smashed, she started to panic and Voldemort himself showed up.

“No, Bella, he is not lying... I see the truth looking at me from within his worthless mind... Months of preparation, months of effort... and my Death Eaters have let Harry Potter thwart me again...”

“Master, I'm sorry, I knew not! I was fighting the Animagus Black!” Bellatrix sobbed, flinging herself at his feet.

“Be quiet, Bella,” Voldemort warned dangerously. “You shall help me torture him, and then I'll forgive you.”

“Yes, Master, of course, anything!” Bellatrix promised in a fervent voice.

Before Harry really had a chance to register what was going on – his head was in SO much pain it was all he could do to open his eyes and pay attention, and clearly not very well at that – Voldemort flicked his wand at Harry, which forced him onto his back with his hands resting on either side of his head. Bellatrix looked very eager to begin the torture, her wand in her hand and at the ready. Voldemort straddled Harry's hips and began by lifting his shirt and tickling his sides, making him laugh and squirm despite the pain in his head.

“My Lord?” Bellatrix questioned in confusion.

“Kneel on his arms and tickle his armpits,” Voldemort ordered.

Still confused but willing to do anything her Lord ordered, Bellatrix lifted her skirt high enough that she could step her feet to either side of Harry's hands, lower herself until her knees were pinning down his arms, and then more or less sit on his head. His laughing and the fact that it was clearly involuntary made her... surprisingly into it.

“Keep laughing, baby Potter,” she stated in a way that sounded like a threat but seemed to be intended as encouragement.

Harry was a bit alarmed by the fact that it was difficult to breathe. He was also rather disgusted that liquid kept dribbling into his mouth from something that felt like a smooth pair of lips. To his relief, it didn't smell or taste like what he thought pee would.

As she tickled his armpits, sides, and chest, Voldemort shifted lower so that he could magic Harry's trousers and pants off. Harry wanted to protest this – not that it would do him any good – but his mouth was too busy laughing and trying to  _ breathe _ with Bellatrix practically suffocating him.

“Planning to cut it off?” Bellatrix asked with interest.

“No, I plan to kill him, so that wouldn't be very useful torture. Instead...” Voldemort trailed off and position his wand so that he could aim a spell directly inside Harry's rectum. “There! That'll tickle him from the inside while I focus on his belly.”

With that, Voldemort pocketed his wand and set about tickling Harry's belly. Harry seriously had to wonder – even as he struggled to escape – if Voldemort somehow  _ knew _ that his belly (and feet) were his most ticklish spots. He gasped in horror as he realized that the spell to tickle him from the inside was doing its job so well that Harry had basically leapt to attention and was already about two seconds from losing his load.

_ No no no! _ He yelled in his head since he couldn't catch his breath enough to yell it out loud. His whole body was already shaking from the tickling, but suddenly suffered from a violent shudder as he sort of seized up and pumped out gobs of thick spunk.

“THERE!” Voldemort cried out in triumph. “I've just proved that I'm more powerful than him! It's time to kill you now, Potter.” He raised his wand and called out: “Avada –” 

But was interrupted by Dumbledore, who sound a hundred times more furious than Harry had ever heard him. “YOU DARE MOLEST A MINOR!!!”

Harry wasn't quite sure how – as he was panting and heaving in recovery – but Dumbledore got Harry out of the way and magicked a golden statue to protect him. As Harry calmed down a bit, although his head still hurt quite a lot, he managed to pull down his shirt and put on his pants and trousers.

After a hard battle that Harry wished he'd had an unrestricted view of, Voldemort disappeared and tried to possess Harry. While literally inside Harry – and considering what had just happened, Harry actually felt a least three times more violated by this thing forcing his way inside him – Voldemort taunted Dumbledore, telling him to try and kill him while inside the boy.

But then Harry realized that he was going to die and see Sirius again, and that made him so happy and full of love, that Voldemort couldn't bear it. He left Harry completely – startled to find that half the employees of the Ministry had just arrived. He magically grabbed Bellatrix and vanished. Dumbledore promised to answer Harry's questions in just a half an hour before handing him a golden head (from the statue protecting him) which was a Portkey that he created (illegally) on the spot.

***

For so many reasons, Harry was rather depressed. So depressed that he'd just left the Hospital Wing because his friends had started talking about the shattered prophecy. He walked along the corridor leading away from it slowly, looking out the windows as he passed them by.

He was finding it hard at the moment to decide whether he wanted to be with people or not. Whenever he was in company, he wanted to get away, and whenever he was alone, he wanted company. He thought he really might go and visit Hagrid since he had not talked to him properly since the half giant's return.

Harry had just descended the last marble step into the entrance hall when Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle emerged from a door on the right that Harry knew led down to the Slytherin common room. Harry stopped dead; so did Draco and the others. For a few moments, the only sounds were the shouts, laughter, and splashes of students playing in the Black Lake drifting into the hall from the grounds through the open front doors.

Draco glanced around. Harry knew that he was checking for signs of teachers. Then he looked back at Harry and said in a low voice: “You're dead, Potter.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Funny, you'd think I'd have stopped walking around...”

Draco looked angrier than Harry had ever seen him. He felt a kind of detached satisfaction at the sight of the pale, pointed face contorted with rage.

“You're going to pay,” Draco said in a voice barely louder than a whisper. “ _ I'm _ going to make you pay for what you've done to my father...”

“Well I'm terrified now,” Harry replied sarcastically. “I s'pose being molested and very nearly raped by Voldemort and your insane Aunt Bellatrix is just a warm-up act compared to you three – what's the matter?” Harry asked, since all three of them looked stricken at the sound of the name. For two of them, this was the case, but for the third, his expression unexpectedly turned to concern.

“Molested? Nearly raped? Are you alright?” Draco asked in clear concern.

Harry shrugged. “I dunno. I guess I am. I er... No. I'm not,” he finished, shaking his head.

Draco held out his hand and waited patiently. Harry hesitated, and then placed his hand in Draco's who tugged him into his arms and held him tight. “Is there anything I can do to help you feel better?”

These actions had both Crabbe and Goyle gaping at them in extreme confusion.

Harry rested his head on Draco's shoulder for a moment. “Yeah... Tickle me?”

Draco chuckled softly, understanding that Harry was referring to tickling in the exact same way he'd tickled him before. He lifted Harry's face until they were looking in each other's eyes. “Love to.”

Harry closed his eyes and raised up just a little to meet Draco for a soft kiss that got fairly possessive rather quickly. As they kissed, a flash of light burst from Harry that swirled around them for a dozen seconds before zooming up into the air and vanishing.

“Er, what was that?” Harry asked.

“I suspect it was your curse breaking,” Snape informed him unexpectedly, startling them both as they hadn't realized that he'd come up behind them. “ _ What _ in Merlin's beard were you doing?”

Rather than state the obvious – not even in a snarky or sarcastic way as was called for – Harry chose to roll his eyes. “I was trying to decide what curse to use on Malfoy, sir.”

This took Snape aback for a moment. “Such impertinence! Ten points from Gryff –” He turned to look toward the giant hourglasses on the walls and gave a sneering smile. “Ah, I see there are no longer any points left in the Gryffindor hourglass to take away. In that case, Potter, we will simply have to –”

“Add some more?” Professor McGonagall suggested as she entered the castle, now back from her trip to St. Mungo's due to four stunners to the chest. She added a bunch of points to Gryffindor, some to Ravenclaw for Luna, and then took ten points away as Snape wanted. After she was done, she turned to face them again. “Well, Potter, Malfoy, I think you ought to be outside on a glorious day like this.

Harry did not need telling twice. He grabbed Draco's hand and dragged him out to find a bit of privacy. Thankfully, Crabbe and Goyle were already sent off by McGonagall to bring her stuff to her office. Thus, when they reached the Forbidden Forest, Harry only looked around enough to make sure that no one else was looked ready to follow them. Despite being watched curiously, no one dared come close enough to the Forbidden Forest to see what they were up to.

Not too far in, just far enough not to be seen, Harry stopped and gestured to a grass and leaf covered area that looked relatively soft. “Here?”

Draco hadn't relished the idea of entering the Forbidden Forest without some guarantee of safety, but since they weren't too far in and it was unlikely that anything that lived in the forest would come this close to the castle, he looked around and decided that the place would work just fine. Especially if fixed up a bit. He transfigured the grass and leaves into a large plush cushion for them to lay on.

Taking this as a good sign, Harry pulled his shirt off. Draco was so excited that he forgot he could cast spells to get undressed in seconds. Instead, they both tore their clothes off and tossed them away carelessly. In less than a minute, they were both diving onto the cushion and kissing so enthusiastically that it resembled a mini battle fought with their mouths.

They wrestled and grappled around on the cushion for so long that it was a miracle that someone didn't come looking for them after all. Eventually, they were both so turned on and ready that Harry grabbed Draco by the back of his neck and glared at him fiercely.

“Bloody shag me already, Draco!”

Draco smirked at him devilishly. “If you insist.” He proved he was serious by casting all the necessary spells to be absolutely sure that Harry wouldn't be hurt. He sank into Harry with a blissful sigh.

He wasn't the only one. Harry held him tight and sighed from both bliss and relief. He delayed the shagging he'd insisted on by kissing Draco again.

After a moment, Draco pulled back so that he could concentrate on finding a pace and angle that pleased Harry. Harry gasped, surprised all over again by how good this felt. “Go ahead, pound into me!”

More than willing, Draco did exactly that, thrusting into Harry so fast and hard that both of them couldn't help but gasp out: “Ah ah ah!” Both felt something akin to lava rolling over them, which made Harry unable to catch his breath for a moment before a squeal escaped him and just wouldn't stop.

This coincided with magical little fluttering that made Draco cry out: “I'm gonna –!”

He was cut short when Harry's squeal turned into encouragement: “Yes, yes! DO IT!”

With a groan of profound relief, Draco emptied himself inside Harry. After a moment of simply savoring his orgasm, he collapsed onto the cushion next to Harry. They both panted for a few moments.

“I had no idea how badly I needed that,” Harry murmured once he'd calmed down a bit.

Draco smiled at him softly. “Glad I could help, and actually, I feel like you've made a good start on apologizing to me for my dad.”

Harry rolled his eyes but elected not to comment. He just knew that no matter what he said, it would offend Draco, and after what had just happened, he really wanted to bask in the afterglow for a while longer.

Draco sighed as if defeated. “Unfortunately, there were a few too many witnesses to our romantic little hand in hand stroll to the forest, so I have to go see if I can do damage control, and then I  _ really _ need to get to bed so that I can pass out and not wake up to find that I've spent the entire night in this forest, on this cushion with you.”

“Would that be so bad?” Harry wondered, actually finding the suggestion brilliant.

Draco kissed him unexpectedly. “No, well, not the part about spending the night with you. You could actually make it up to me if we did that. But  _ not _ out here in the forest!”

Harry watched him sit up, and then stand so that he could search for his clothes and get dressed.

“Plus I'm hungry,” he added with a smirk at Harry. “I somehow managed to work up an appetite.”

Harry laughed at that, his stomach suddenly agreeing with that assessment. Feeling happier than he thought he'd be so soon after recent events, he summoned his clothes and got dressed too. Just before they left the forest, Harry took Draco's hand in his.

“Hey, erm...” he faltered, not quite sure whether to call him Draco or Malfoy. “Erm, well, I know we probably won't see each other like this again before leaving, so... bye...”

Draco gave him a parting kiss. “Goodbye Harry. Try to take care of yourself this summer.”

Harry smiled at him. “You too.”

And with that, they went their separate ways, both strangely looking forward to returning to school next fall.

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think?


End file.
